


When your muse walks past

by CallipsisVonDoth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M, Tags to be edited as characters and interactions occur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 18:02:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7184396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallipsisVonDoth/pseuds/CallipsisVonDoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel an artist, though of late his art has been lacking. Ever sense his break up he has felt that his art, despite what his best friend (Balthazar) would have him believe, is complete shit. That is until he spots Sam Winchester and his spark is lit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spark

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this was (in my head) going to be a fluff piece. Upon trying to write it I find that I have no bleeding idea HOW to write a fluffy piece. So that didn't happen.

"Oh! I know! You can paint a pig. A little fluffy one. Bouncing threw the grass. You know, lots of light pinks and greens! It could be quite the eye catcher." Balthazar was being sarcastic. Castiel knew this but it didn't stop him from wanting to throw a tray of paint at his friends latest piece of work- the desire was overwhelming. Instead he rolled his eyes. 

"Hm. Quite right." Balth giggled turning back to his drawing. "That wouldn't quite fit in with you line of art."

"A fluffy pig?" Cas scoffed. " Oh no, I'm sure you're right. Just think of the gallery. Lining the walls of the gloriously designed hall we see images depicting profound love, pain, emotions you can feel bleeding off the canvas! And then a fluffy pig." Cas collapsed upon the couch. Sarcasm still dripping from his aura he awaited his friends imminent comeback.

Balth had stopped drawing. The charcoal he had been using lay abandoned on the side table next to his easel. He was turned away from Cas wiping the remainder of charcoal off his hands with a damp cloth. He sighed. The apartment was filled with a silence almost tangible.

"Why do you feel the need to belittle yourself like that?" Balth turned back around to face Cas, still resting on the couch. When Castiel didn't answer he threw the washcloth upon the floor. Running his hands through his hair in an irritated gesture he bit his tongue to keep from yelling. Knowing his prying neighbors would undoubtedly be listening to he and Castiel's conversation for some new tidbit of gossip to spread like wildfire, he leaned himself across Cas with his hands clenching Cas' shoulders. "Stop." He shouted within a whisper. "I have told you too many times before Castiel. You are an artist. You have always been an artist. She did not take that away from you. Nothing can take that away from you. Now, this will be the last I tell you before I beat the message into your thick skull. Forget her." Cas finally looks up at Balth menacingly at the threat.

They had been friends for many years. Cas had lived in Lawrence Kansas his whole life so when when the day came that he was offered a job teaching art in Asheville North Carolina he was weary to take it. His friends back home convinced him to take the job and soon after moving he met Balth in a sort of hole-in-the-wall coffee shop. At first Cas was taken aback with Balthazar's all of both sarcastic and blunt way of speaking. Balthazar liked Castiel for his sense of reality. The two slowly became close friends with Balth opening Cas up to being more free of spirit, and Cas being a grounding presence in Balth's otherwise flighty life.

Balth was with Cas when he met Meg. The two had been friends for a little under a year by then and had just finished a project they started together. It was a piece depicting a battle between factions of angels. You see, Balthazar didn't have the patience it took to paint. To him is was a daunting task. He preferred the feeling of charcoal or chalk pastel between his fingers. Castiel on the other hand found painting to be beautifully blissful. When he painted he was one with it. The brush was an extension of his arm and he felt complete. They thought of the collaboration quickly upon learning each others love of creating art. After months of work they transformed a 12 by 13 foot canvas into an elaborate picture. They believed celebration was granted on this occasion. 

That night there happened to be an open mic at the coffee shop they met at. There was no better place to celebrate their art than where it all began for them, and that's where he met her. 

Cas and Balth were immersed in their conversation when she was introduced so he hadn't caught her name- but as she began to speak her voice demanded his attention. She was not overly short, but she looked shorter than himself. She had long brown hair that fell on her chest in waves glistening in the scarce lighting of the stage. She looked pale. Her eyes perfectly accented by the little makeup she wore. She was beautiful. Though it was her words that trapped Castiel. She spoke with a confidence forged in fire from years of being silent to long. Letting her wit and words smolder inside until the spark was lit that would ignite her passion. 

After her poems she exited off center stage left and did not stop when approached by the multitudes of men that beckoned her. At best she'd give them a thank you when complimented on one of her pieces but she never smiled. Not to them. When Castiel thinks back to his time with Meg, he remembers her smile. They were few and far between but when she smiled it was to Castiel as if the world would stopped and everything else around him seemed to dim but her. 

Balth was mid sentence about something or other (Cas hadn't been listening for a long while by then) when he stood up to follow her. He wove his way through the somewhat crowded coffee shop intent on catching, at the very least, the name of this girl.

When he opened the door he was greeted with the chill air of spring. He saw her walking down the street taking a slow drag out of her cigarette and watching it materialize on front of her face to simply fade away in the wind. He started after her not sure what he was going to say but knowing he had to. Balthazar came out of the shop looking confused and called out to Cas, Cas never heard him. He was far to lost in the girls shadow. 

"Excuse me." He called out as he caught up with her. She turned around and raised an eyebrow at him in an inquisitive manor. "I'm sorry to bug you but-" 

"Look, I'm busy. So if you're about to hit on me I'll save you some time. Not interested." She turned to leave taking another puff of her cigarette. 

"No, I'm... I'm not hitting on you." He laughed slightly to himself, she turned back around to listen. Crossing her arms across her chest and shifted her weight to one side. Waiting. "To be honest I'm not sure what I'm doing. You just... your words... how do I put this..." He paused to think. "Beauty. You are the essence of beauty." 

She laughed at this but still she did not smile. "That sure sounds like a pick up line to me. Like I said, not interested." Only this time she didn't turn away. She stood still as if waiting to decide whether he deserved her time or not. 

"I'm not, well I might be..." He looked away and rubbed the hair on the back of his neck nervously. Balth stood back by the entrance leaned against a wall. Waiting. Waiting and watching. "What I'm trying to say is that I see and feel beauty when I look at you. I'm an artist. I paint. I spend hours staring at a blank canvas until it tells me what is supposed to be there. I find my muse in emotions, and when I was listening to you? You wouldn't believe what I saw." 

The ash on her cigarette pilled up and fell to the ground unnoticed. Neither of them spoke. She stared into his blue eyes searching for something Castiel couldn't name. After a few more beats of silence she flicked her cigarette and turned to leave. She made it a few steps before calling over her shoulder at him. "My name is Meg." 

"Come on mate." Balth called out to him. "It's time to go. Show's over." Castiel found his way to Balth yet had no recollection of moving. 

She sparked something in his art. Something that almost lived and with each breath expanded. Something that died when she left. 


	2. What we remember

Balth stared down at Cas in silence waiting to get hit, get yelled at, anything. In this silence he found time to wonder what exactly Meg had done to break his friend so entirely. When he thinks of Castiel, the image that comes to mind is of a brilliant man. One that's very being screams "look at me!" without him saying a word and yet he held himself as if he thought he's no better than the common rabble. When Balth thinks of Castiel he gets an image of when they first met. 

Cas had been sitting alone reading a book. The coffee shop had been emptier that day than most. There was no performances being held nor workshops. No book signings. No. It had been a little bit bigger than small (but not quite big enough to be called "big") coffee shop sitting snug in an almost underground nook in Asheville North Carolina. Balthazar had been going there for years. He did not especially like their coffee. It wasn't bad, though it wasn't particular good either. What kept Balth coming to the shop was the feeling of home it gave him. 

It had no website, you couldn't look it up online or find it in a phone book. The shop, Purgatory as it was called, was the idea of a slightly odd fellow by the name of Chuck. Chuck was an anti-social man who hardly came out of his apartment above Purgatory. He had named the coffee shop as such because he believed that the only people he deemed worth being around (on the rare occasion that he deemed company appropriate at all) were those that would belong in purgatory. He always thought the damaged people, the sinners, those cast out by the general public, they told the best stories. So he hid his shop away in hopes that only those that were meant to find it would.

Regulars of the coffee shop would sometimes notice Chuck sitting at a table near the back of the shop typing away at his laptop. The observant ones would catch him watching the people as they talked and drank their coffee. You see, he was writing a story. Every now and then he would complete a decent chunk and add it to a three ring binder that sat on one of the various book shelves lining the walls. He never put it back in the same place so finding it could often be quite the endeavor, but if anyone were to find it the stories inside would confuse and amaze them. They had no beginning. They had no end. They didn't even seem to have a definite meaning behind them. This is because Chuck writes the stories of life. One story bleeds into the next as he watched the people at each table change from day to day. It was at one of those tables that Balthazar saw Cas reading. Where Chuck wrote the story of their very first meeting. 

Balth had been watching him for a few minutes. At first it was because the mans rough features and the gentle way he handled the novel between his hands attracted him. After further inspection Balth noticed the way his hands traced the paper with every turn of a page. He moved with a steady practiced hand. Delicately. He sat crossed legged lounging back in one of the many couches in the room. Almost hidden away behind shelves of well worn novels. Balth doesn't know what possessed him to approach Castiel but before he knew it he sat across from the man with a book. 

"Hello there. I am befriending you." Balth smiled at Cas. Lifting his hand and daintily wiggling his fingers at him in a gesture of greeting. 

Cas paused. Not sure how to handle such an encounter. "Excuse me?" was what he managed. 

"Balthazar, but you may refer to me as Balth if you should like." He extended his hand towards Cas. Cas shook it reluctantly. 

"What makes you think I want to befriend you, Balthazar."

"Because I'm what you need." Balth smiled brightly leaning back in his chair. "You see, you look like you're a rather structured individual. Don't get me wrong there is nothing particularly 'wrong' with that per say. Everyone needs a little structure in their life."

"So where do you come in?" He had put his book down on his lap, marking his place with a finger. 

"I'm here to destroy that structure." Castiel smiled wickedly at the remark.

"I'd love to see you try. Castiel, pleasure to meet you Balthazar."

Now, as Balthazar peers into Cas' eyes he no longer sees the fire that once raged within them. His eye, once a burning blue, are a faded grey. He moves away from his friend; defeated. He picks up a new piece of charcoal and makes as though he intends to continue drawing. Staring at the paper he realizes he's lost the inspiration for this particular piece and throws the charcoal onto the wooden floor in defeat. Cursing under his breath he walks out of the living room and into the restroom. He splashes his face with water and stares into his reflection.

His short dirty blonde hair dripped water droplets that slid along his face. His own grey eyes stared back at him. There were smudges of charcoal still on his face. He sighed letting his irritation and defeat at the situation out. Grabbing a towel he wiped his face off and made to leave the bathroom. He stepped out of the door just in time to hear the front door close. Balth walked into the living room but found no one there but his own shadow upon the floor; he sighed. 

Castiel stood outside Balthazar's apartment building staring up at the night sky. He had lived in North Carolina for five years now and he still didn't think he'd ever get used to the view. He thought about going home but found no reason to. The only thing awaiting him at home was a cold bed and silence. He wasn't yet tired and he could find silence anywhere. Instead he walked to a near park and sat upon a bench. Fireflies fluttered through the air. Cas watched couples walking hand in hand giggling to one another at the other end of the park. 

He pulled a sketchbook and pencil out of his backpack to sketch them. It had been an odd habit he picked up as a teenager. No one really talked to him during the long bus rides home through Salina Kansas, he sat alone. He took up drawing then. He had been in an art class as a kid, they were mandatory after all, but he and the teacher never got along. More often than not she would banish him from the classroom moments after the class had begun. Castiel loved art though and would practice his craft well into the night. 

His favorite had been painting. He would spend hours teaching himself how to create each stroke into something of perfection. Castiel only ever painted at night. Using a small lamp as his light he had to be silent. His parents did not agree with the arts. As soon as he got into high school they forbid him from enrolling in any extra elective that had to do with music or art that wasn't necessary for graduation. When he was done with a piece of art he would give it to his best friend, a girl named Charlie; she had promised to destroy it for him so his parents would never know. He had known Charlie sense they were little kids. He and her parents were friends from college. Her parents were almost as strict as his were but he trusted her to get rid of the art. He didn't know how she got rid of them but they were never seen again. He missed Charlie. They called ever now but he hasn't been returning her calls in quite a while. Not sense... 

He finished the sketch of the lovers in the distance. None of his drawings had color. All either pencil or blue/black ink. He closed the drawing book and traced the letter 14 carved into its spine. He liked to number each book as he filled them. They lived on a shelf of books in his drawing room at home. This way he could look back at the progression of his art style over time. As he slipped the book back into his back pack he sighed. This was the last book he was going to fill. 

The walk home didn't take long. He and Balthazar lived fairly close to one another. He walked down the twisted road that lead to his house. He lived in add odd little nook. The road was a dead end. Their were other houses that lined the street, but through the houses you couldn't see anymore of the city. You could see the ever present mountains that littered the horizon. But no other buildings were in sight but his neighbor's homes. As he unlocked the door a neighborhood stray cat he had come to call Faith pounced up onto the railing purring. Faith was missing her tail and left eye. He liked her. Cas took a moment to pet the cat before heading into his home. 

His greeting was to be expected. The door creaked behind him as he closed it. He set his things down on the living room coffee table and headed upstairs to his bedroom. His room was simple but elegant. He put on his pajamas and brushed his teeth before lying down in bed. He ignored his reflection on the thick glassed mirror that made up his headboard. He had been ignoring his reflection entirely of late. Castiel had grown to hate the reflection that looked back at him. A stranger in the cold glass. 


End file.
